The Sound of Flight
Beyond a fine facade of cloud, Her spirit struts across the air. In welkin's eviternal shroud, She wears her hopes upon her hair Like jewels that sultry visions bring Of foreign skies where wishes wing. A chain of prayers adorns a chest That fortune's fickle rays have scarred. It shimmers through with futures blessed By shifty strands of vague regard. Below it rests a painted clasp Of hues that wait before her grasp. A brace of metal hugs her wrist. It bears a gem upon its face That twinkles with each moment's twist To gird for time's mechanic pace. The formless tricks of fate's reveal Reflect within its fluid steel. No sooth assaults her free delight.